


The Warrior, the Maiden and the Crone

by brunetteattack



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romance Novel, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:01:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brunetteattack/pseuds/brunetteattack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Jaime and Brienne meet again</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in here, i hope to make it to the end. Sorry for the grammar mistakes, I´m not native English speaker and my grammar skills and vocabulary are limited. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.

The Warrior

Tarth stood in front of him, different than he remembered. Everything seemed different than he remembered; the air, the sea, even the sky and the stars. The last time he saw the island, its green forests were cloaked in mist, its sandy shores wrapped with sapphire sea smelled of salt, fish and palms. But the last time he saw the island, winter wasn't there, snow wasnt falling and war, though it was at the door, still didn't touch one of the last oases of peace in Westeros. But it was almost two years ago and now everything seemed different just because everything was different. The winter did come, like those damn Starks always said it will, war came as well and Tarth became just another place of misery, hunger and death.

As the ship came to shore, he put his hooded cloak over his head, said goodby to the captain – fat, stinky Myrish drunk who had spend the whole journey in his quarters; drinking,whoring and not giving a single damn about the ship, the crew or the storm that lasted a fortnight and almost sunk them. He knew he was in danger and he knew he was putting her in danger as well. He had to come back, even if the price for returning was his life. There were things he loved more than his life, and this island contained some of them.

He was exiled from Westeros and although his brother was Hand of the Queen Daenerys and King Aegon, he still couldn't persuade them that no danger came to the throne from side of the so famous and so well known Kingslayer.

Kingslayer.

He became the name and the name became him.

He could barely remember his real name. Name his mother gave him, name his father loved, name his sister called him since the day they said their first words together, name his children never spoke, name that was long forgotten by everyone.

His mother died long ago, he forgot her face and her voice and perhaps a bit of him was gone with her, wherever she went. His father was dead as well, though losing him didn't even put tears in his eyes. He was always a disappointment to Tywin, he knew that ever since he took that damn white cloak from Aerys. Disappointment Tywin never accepted, disappointment Tywin always tried to deny, disappointment of the house Lannister, house he was no longer part of. His sister was dead too, the one he loved more than anything, the one he gave all of himself, the one who took everything from him, even his own name.

Yet, his brother lived, and when anger weared off from his heart, the love Tyrion felt for him was still there. His brother saved his life, his brother and the Lady he left behind. The Lady in blue, the Lady with the sword, the Lady knight. Brienne.

He thought of her often in these past two years. More often than he wanted, too often for his own good. Is she alive? Is she well? Is her father still alive? Is the boy he left with her fine? He should be almost two and ten by now. Was he still the little scared kitten? The boy king, the crownless king, the bastard, his son.

He found Tarth somber and dark, exhausted with war and hunger. The icey rain was showering the mountains and valeys and there wasnt a living soul on his way; all the peasnts were either dead or hiding cause the war was long from over. Dragons were sitting on the throne again but there wasnt much love between the queen and the king. What keept them together was Stannis who still held the north, Stannis who was tougher than a Flea Bottom cockroach; King Stannis and his Queen Asha Greyjoy and their army of wildlings, Ironborns and dead monsters.

The Wall had fallen not so long ago and the words even came to the Free Cities. He knew then he had to come back because Westeros was only a small step from a wasteland. Dragons and Others, blood and magic....the Song of Ice and Fire which began with Joffrey and Ned Stark´s head could end in only one possible way.

He had to see his son and his brother before that. He had to see her. And then...well, then do what he was born to do. Die in battle.

Soaked and frozen he saw the Evenfall Hall lying in the darkness, its tall walls still resisting months of war and winter. Gates were closed and kept under guard. He banged twice with his gold hand, while rain was pouring down his face soaking even his small clothes. There was no response. He banged again, three times now. Small hatch opened and a rash voice said – Get lost bastard, no beggars are welcomed here! Your kind is filthier than rats, though rats look and smell better than you!  
\- I´m here to see the Lady Brienne - he answered with the most polite voice he could.  
Two years in the Free Cities, hiding and dealing with little money his brother managed to send him, made him quite humble and patient. Little was left of his Lannister arrogance and vanity but much was left of his Lannister pride and manners. He was a high-born knight, and as that he had been thought courtesy, even with the lowest of all people. At least that he learned from Brienne.  
\- She is Lady of Tarth for you, rat. And what business do you have with her? Perhaps you are her suitor as well?  
Loud laugh came from the other side of the door, louder even than the thunders that rip the black sky.  
\- Suitor? – he repeated with disbelief – Lady is getting married?  
\- Is that business of yours? Everyone knows she has to, ever since her father died almost a year ago. Every bloody knight in Seven Kingdoms, or however many kingdoms are left by now, wants to wed her. She may not be rich as those damn Lions, or pretty either but she holds a title, castle and lands, much more than many have these days. No one wants to bed her alright, but hell with it, for a title of a lord, I would fuck a bloody pig!

He felt his anger rising. He wanted to jump over the gates and rip that bastards throat. Before he could say anything, he heard a horse behind him and then a voice of a young boy screamed – Open the gates!

This was his chance and he had to react quickly. He jumped in front of a horse which reared and the boy ended in the puddle of mud in front of the gates. Creaking, the gates opened and two guards grabbed him by his cloak. The boy rose to his feet, dirty and scratched; he wasn´t very tall but he was skinny and pale.  
\- Ser, what do we do with this rat? – one of the guards asked – He doesn´t want to go away and he demands to see the Lady.  
Boy came closer and looked at him carefully. His eyes were brown as his hair, he was around six and ten.  
\- Bring him in! – he said shortly.  
\- But Ser, he´s the beggar – protested the guard – he shouldn´t be allowed in the castle. If we take just one in, hundreds of them will follow and demand the same.  
\- I said, bring him in! – the boy ordered, grabbing reins of his horse.  
Guards pushed him in like a sack of potatoes and he barely managed to stay on his feet. He wanted to thank the boy, but even before he could open his mouth, that skinny kid pushed him aside covering him with his cloak.  
\- What are you doing here, Ser? Are you insane? You are exiled by the Queen and King themselves! My Lady could lose her head for this! – the boy was furious but still, there was some relief in his voice.  
\- I had to come, I had to see.....them. – his voice trembled for a second – thank you for helping me in, boy.  
\- Pod. My name is Pod, Ser. You are risking your life and hers as well, not to mention the life of your, of your... – the boy got confused and embarrassed.  
\- Of my son, just say it. Everyone knows it by now.  
\- Well yes, but no one knows he is here, not even my Lord Tyr....I mean not even your brother.  
\- Then the boy is safe – he felt big burden falling off his shoulders. His son was well. – Can I stay here by the morning? I want to talk to Brienne before I leave.  
\- No Ser, you cannot stay here, one of the servants may see you, you must hurry! Follow me, I will take you somewhere safe.

They walked over dark halls, from one chamber to another, never stopping, not for a moment. Pod seemed to know the castle well cause he didnt need a torch, a candle or anything to light his way. After a while, they entered a small but comfortable bedchamber. It was cold and empty; it seemed no one slept in here for years. It was full of dust and silver cobweb hanged in the corners. The bed was made though, with blue silk, the same one curtains, which rounded two big windows, were made of too.  
\- Wait here. – the boy said vanishing through the door that closed behind his back.

He looked around. The room was in complete dark but he could sense the space well. There was a small fireplace opposite of bed, with two chairs in front of it; there was a small dresser between the windows and a big, heavy chest by the door. Strangely, he felt peaceful in this simple place, more peaceful than he ever felt at home, at Castelry Rock.

Hearing the wooden door slamming somewhere behind him, he turned around and then he saw her standing on the doorstep, silent and motionless like a statue carved out of pale marble. Maiden or Warrior, he couldn't tell which one she resembled more. Perhaps she was still both. She seemed taller than he remembered, or maybe just the shadow towering her face made her like that. Wearing only simple white night gown and old blue bathrobe that was too big even for her, she slowly stepped towards him. He felt his heart stopped for a second and all his memory, all his pain and all those days far away from home were lost in that one skipped beat. Her hair was still ugly straw dancing around her shoulders, her lips still too plumped, her hands still too big. He wanted to say something, anything, but his voice got stuck in his throat cutting off his every thought, leaving him silent. As she came closer, he felt his knees trembling and his palm sweating. He even stopped breathing cause he felt that every breath he takes will end this magic he was somehow part of.

She came so close he could feel her breath on his face, sweet, soft and warm, just like it felt in all those silent nights when all he wanted was to feel her near him again.  
Gently, she took his hands in hers, and he felt their warmth, their touch, their life. Even his golden hand, that damn thing he hated so much, felt alive, felt like part of him.  
“Is it really you?” - she asked quietly, her voice cracked with heavy breathing that was raising her breasts beneath the night gown.  
He raised his view from their still tightly clenched hands. Blue and large, her eyes seemed to soak all the pain of the existing world but still, they were shining with strength that was unknown to him. He recognized her then, and himself as well.  
Slowly, her hands slipped behind his back, her head fell on his shoulder and with loud groan she whispered – Jaime, Jaime, you are alive.  
His eyes, after almost a lifetime, filled with tears and embracing her, he thought – Yes, Jaime. I am Jaime.


	2. The Maiden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne´s reflections about Jaime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and leaving comments. It really means a lot to me that you appreciate my work, especially since I am only a beginner in writing and still have a lot to learn. I am sorry it took me this long for another chapter. I am terribly insecure about this and sometimes I just wanted to quit. 
> 
> I hope this chapter will not disappoint any of you.

The Maiden

His name was the prayer she said every day.

In mornings obscured with thick fog, in afternoons wrapped in cold wind that finally brought winter to Tarth. In long, lonely evenings after she would bid Tommen goodnight and send him to bed, in dark nights embracing her solitude underneath pillows and blankets. Fortunately, pillows don´t talk. In the whiteness of their feathers they keep tears, whispers, memories and million secrets.

His name was the prayer she never thought gods would answer. And yet, they did. Looking at him, she didn´t know was that their greatest mercy or the biggest cruelty.  
He stood in front of her, soggy and cold as the night outside. Memories flooded her like tide, pulling her into that moment two years ago, moment she thought she lost him.

\- I will keep him safe, I swear it - she told him ready to fall on her knees and give an oath.

He gently took her arm above the elbow and held her on her feet. Tommen stood beside them, confused and scared, with tears in his eyes but silent, without a cry, sigh or a word.

\- No more oaths, Brienne. I´m tired of it. Just promise me. - His voice was silent but determined and words she heard struck her hard and gently at the same time. She caught his gaze and kept her eyes on him for a while. After all that happened, he still had faith in her, he still believed.

\- And promise will be enough? - Compared to his, her voice was trembling. From cold or fear, she could not say.  
\- From you, yes.  
\- I promise, then.

He hugged the boy slowly, holding him like some precious thing, fragile and delicate, afraid it might get broken once he lets it out of hand.

\- You were right all along – she said while he landed a soft kiss into boy's dirty hair – we really don´t get to choose who we love.

She took Tommen by his hand, and Jaime stared after them for a long, long time, until he became a small dot in the distance, swallowed by damp darkness.

He was staring at her now as well, his eyes glowing with same sorrow and pain. A century passed between then and now, or was it only a short moment? Was it really him she was seeing or was this just another of her dreams? Before she could even put her thoughts together, her arms were spreading and she ended in his embrace. Hearing herself saying his name out loud felt strange, it felt strange for her ears to hear the prayer only her heart remembered. He was cold as ice and soaked to the skin. Her night gown was getting wet, on the shoulders at first and then down her belly and thighs, on every place their bodies collided. But she couldn´t let go. She wouldn´t let go. She didn´t want to. Ever again.

They stood like that for a while, his arms around her waist, her hands buried deep in his hair. Her fingers felt mud and dirt and tangles and knots. But underneath it all his hair still shone pure gold, it rounded his perfect face in haggard locks, still beautiful, still shimmering with dark glow. Even now, despite everything, such beauty lied in this man, such symmetry and grace that nothing could erase.

\- Brienne… - he whispered and grip around her waist weakened but his hands still lingered on her hips. Lifting her head from his shoulder she looked at him fearing what she might see. Who she might see. After all, years have passed, things have changed and nothing was the same it had been. Not even her. But there could be no mistake. Even in rotten and moldy clothes, covered with dirt and thick facial hair, Jaime Lannister couldn´t be anything else but what he had been all of his life. A golden knight, fierce lion of the Rock. He still fascinated her like the first time she saw him, with those deep eyes, with the stillness of his soul. She looked at his hair and mourned it, shorn in a fit of desperation, in longing for the wildness she once knew. Gently, she raised her hand and moved a strand of hair that covered his forehead and kept her away from his sight. Emerald silence of his eyes struck her deep. _Too deep_ – she knew.

\- And the boy? Podric told me he is well.  
\- He is. He grew quite a lot, you know.  
\- That is what kids do, wench. Grow. Can I see him?  
\- I don´t think that´s wise. At least not now.  
\- So he knows, then?  
\- I have told him, yes. He knows who you are.  
\- He knows and he hates me. Well, I guess I couldn´t hope for anything better.  
\- He doesn´t ha…..  
\- It´s fine, Brienne. I can live with hate, remember? I have lived with it most of my life, I will live with it henceforward. I don´t blame him, really. If I was him I would hate myself. I am me and I hate myself.  
\- He doesn´t hate you, Jaime.  
\- Then he despises me.  
\- Do you think a boy of his age knows what spurn is?  
\- Did you know when you were ten and two?

Too well she meant to say. But she didn´t. She remembered every single one of them. Men who spurned her. Their faces, their words, their acts. From Red Ronnet and Ser Humprey to Hyle Hunt and Mark Mullandore. Lady Stoneheart. Sansa Stark. Queen Daenerys. Even Renly. Thought of him still stabbed her from time to time. Jaime himself. From the first moment in the cells of Riverrun, his scorn stabbed her the deepest. Yes, scorn. Once you taste it, it is hard to forget.

But Tommen? Boy who would rather stay hungry and give his dinner to kittens than eat it? Boy who slept in the stables when his horse was sick? Boy who, once king, now carried milk pots to help milk maid he liked? He who was once everything and now nothing, but still keept his head high and his heart clean?  
It was her turn to smile.

\- Why are you smiling, wench?

_Because that boy couldn´t be more like you even if he tried. Because all your kidness and endearment are a part of him just as they are a part of you. Because even if pure gold didn´t touch his shoulders and his eyes didn´t shine green, he would still be mirror image of you. Because he will never find a father in any other man but you._

\- Because you are here.

_Because I can´t take my eyes off of you. Because I wanna touch your face. Badly. I wanna put my palm on your cheek and make you open your soul to me. I want you to look at me. With desire. With lust. I want you to kiss me. Like that. Soft and wet. I wanna kiss you back. Strongly and with passion. I wanna touch your lips with my finger. I wanna feel that softness you are blessed with. I wanna put my arms around your neck and let yours slip down my back. I wanna feel your body again. With mine. And although now I can feel your breath colliding with mine, although I can hear your heart beating I know you are out of my reach. Too much of it is standing between us. Too much of the past. Too much of Cersei and Renly. Too much of me and too much of you._

\- My presence here puts you to great danger, Brienne.  
\- Was there ever a moment when your presence put me to anything else?  
\- I wish to believe it did.

_It did indeed. It put me to hope and despair. It put me to knowledge of hate and love. It put me to misery and sorrow. Because of it, daybreaks became my nightmares instead of my dreams._

She didn´t say anything. She wanted to but she realized words were just words, only set of signs, voices. No matter how strong they are, they are always the surface without any trace of inside. Whole universe of words is nothing compared to just one touch. She embraced him strongly once more, like she wanted to write herself on him, like she wanted to make a memory that time and distance will not erase.

Some silences you remember more than the most beautiful words.

They released their embrace and then she raised her head from his shoulder, bowed her head aside and her lips opened slowly as a rose opens in fresh dawn.

How did it happen that their lips came together?

A kiss, and all was said.

After it, his smile came easily as always, unstoppably like waves in the sea storm. It sunk her and then quietly withdrew leaving them in silence. Parts of those waves crawled into every crevice of her heart and she knew, whatever happens, the salt that was left there would stay in her forever. He was the slender blade of temptation, deadly and sharp, slipping beneath the ribs to strike a heart unable to keep him out. He was the lost savagery of herself—the young woman who never lost her passion or her energy. She never ceased longing for it, that excitement, that wildness. It drew her to him again and again, relentless and unrepentant.

There were no men like him. There was only him.

_Maybe this is the meaning of love_ \- she thought leaving him behind, in that small, dusty room that once belonged to her mother - _the beauty of uncertainty. Waiting and hoping in despair, inosculating in thoughts. And knowing that we are here somewhere._

_So close and yet so far._


End file.
